


A Cold Winter's Night

by prosodiical



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alana Has a Nice Day too, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Graham Has a Nice Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana’s having a slightly lonely night, at least until the doorbell rings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [will_loves_winston](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=will_loves_winston).



The wind was howling outside, rattling at the windowpanes. Alana was reclining on the couch, eyes closed, the warmth from the hearth permeating the house as she absently listened to the roaring storm. It was, she thought, almost a lonely night but for the dozen dogs lying around on the floor, as lethargic as her. Winston, lying on the carpet by her feet, looked up at her curiously; she smiled at him, shifting around so she could scratch behind his ears, threading her fingers through his fur. Although there was undoubtedly something peaceful about lazing about with a pack of dogs, she had a quiet ache in her chest that meant a piece was missing.

Alana let out a gusty sigh, rising to stoke the fire before she decided to head to the kitchen. Carefully navigating the maze of dogs strewn across the room, she finally escaped the warm press of the living room. Alana set the kettle on to boil and leaned against the countertop, exhausted for no reason she could name.

Winston had followed her, now standing in the kitchen doorway, head tilted. She shook her head, not even trying to hide her smile, and said, “C’mere, you.” Obediently, the dog trotted toward her, tongue lolling and tail slowly wagging, and she bent down to hug him, thankful for the company.

The kettle shrilled, a dissonant harmony to the noise outside, and she rose and turned off the stove. She padded on socked feet around Winston, reaching up into her cupboards for a mug. It looked strange and solitary sitting by itself on the counter as she reached for some tea and the kettle, and on a whim she took down another mug, setting the two side by side.

Tea soon steamed from her mug and she took it back to the living room, Winston following her and occasionally nudging her legs with his nose. She set the mug on a side table and tread carefully to the nearest window, where she pulled open one of her curtains just a bit.

Trees outside were buffeted strongly by the wind, but she could see the beginnings of snow collecting on the ground outside, tinted yellow by streetlamps. Even as she watched the flurry of snow increased, reflecting light, and she pulled the curtains shut again with a quiet sigh.

It was lonely, she allowed herself to acknowledge, as she curled back up on the couch, picking up the book she had started earlier. Even with a veritable army of dogs, there was something to be said about human company on a night like this, cold and dark and miserable. Her lips twitched into a wry smile and she said, quiet, “Happy birthday to me.”

She wondered if Will had ever felt like this, at home alone with his dogs, or even now, alone in a mental hospital that might as well be a jail, not even his furry friends for company. Alana tried not to think about how there was still a mug sitting on her kitchen counter, about the way her hopes stupidly, stupidly rose every time a dog heard something interesting outside. Unreasonable expectations, she knew, because Will didn’t even know what day it was, Will was under suspicion of murder, Will was –

Winston barked. She looked up as the rest of the dogs roused, barking rising into a cacophony that drowned out the wind outside as they pawed at the windows. Not a few seconds later the doorbell rang, and Alana couldn’t help but think of the last time she had seen Will here, frantic and exhausted, and wondered if she’d even be willing to harbor him as a fugitive, for all that she wished.

She rose and walked to her front door. Peering through the peephole gave her nothing but the whiteness of snow flurries, and she checked herself before opening the door, letting in a gust of cold and the first sprinklings of snow on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, her emotions running the gamut of shock-joy-worry-fear in an instant. Will was nearly shivering in a jacket Alana might have remembered seeing him in before, hands in his pockets, hair over his eyes. His breath frosted against the chill, snowflakes melting slowly on his shoulders.

“Can I come in?” He peered at her and she closed her eyes, breathing in and out to settle herself before stepping aside, leaving him enough room to enter. He stepped inside with a rush of cold and she wordlessly gestured for him to take off his boots by the mat, then closed the door.

“Hi, Alana,” were the first words he said, the first words she had heard from him in months that felt like forever. She was still halfway in shock, leaning against the wall for support for her shaky legs, and it seemed a response was unnecessary anyway as Will was almost immediately mobbed by his dogs.

He was laughing, delight clear on his face as he reunited with every one of them, and Alana slowly walked around them and to the kitchen, where a lone mug still sat on the bench. The water in the kettle was still warm, and her voice didn’t tremble when she called out, “Tea?” though it wanted to.

“Sure,” Will called back, and a few moments after she had it made appeared in the doorway, dogs framing him like a cloud. Winston squeezed by when it was apparent Will wasn’t approaching her, and the dog padded up to her and looked so hopeful she couldn’t help her smile.

“Really,” she said, after a moment of quiet, “what are you doing here?”

Will looked slightly startled. “Ah,” he started, and pursed his lips. “I’ve been released. Jack didn’t tell you?”

“No!” Alana exclaimed, staring at him, an unbidden smile slowly stretching across her face. “When was this?”

“I just got out today,” Will said, smiling tentatively. “Certified both innocent and sane.”

Alana shook her head, smile growing. “Wow,” she said. “I’m glad.” There was nothing else she felt she could say – for all that Will had protested his innocence, for all that she wanted to believe him, she wasn’t sure that she had, in the end. But having him here, now – it was more than she ever could have expected or wanted for today.

She shook her head again, amazed, and stepped forward, well-choreographing her movements and gently pulling him into a hug. He accepted it with ill grace at first, but as she held on she could feel him relax by increments, slowly sagging into her hold. “I’m sorry,” she said, quietly, her eyes squeezed shut against the lingering guilt and tears.

He shook his head a tiny amount, his hair brushing against her ear. “No, don’t be.”

She thought about protesting but knew he wouldn’t agree; instead, she let it go with some difficulty, sighing and stepping away. She passed Will his mug as she walked them to the living room, her own mug now barely steaming. The warmth of the fire was welcoming and the dogs all settled down it their previous places as she sat down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her in invitation.

“This is cozy,” Will commented, and Alana took one look at him, perched awkwardly on the edge of her furniture like he was afraid it was going to eat him, and leaned over and kissed him.

She had to firmly tell herself to stop overanalyzing as Will first startled, then gave in under her efforts. He always kissed her as though it would be his last chance, and it made her heart ache for him, just a bit. After a long few moments of warmth curling in her belly she pulled away, picking up the blanket she had been curled under before and throwing it over them both.

“Not quite a space heater,” she quipped, “but I think it’ll do.”

He smiled, and she curled up along his side, basking in his presence, in the sudden wonderful upturn of her night. Winston huffed and jumped up on the couch beside her feet, a weight on the blanket over her legs, and she grumbled in protest. “Silly thing,” she told him, and Will’s chest rumbled with laughter under her ears.

“Thanks for looking after them,” he murmured, voice soft and low.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Alana assured him, closing her eyes in sheer pleasure. Will had an arm placed around her shoulders, and it was almost like what she had first imagined: the two of them, cuddling with dogs in the winter. “They’re all very well trained.”

She could almost imagine the flush on his cheeks at the compliment, and she opened one eye to peek at it as he ducked his head down. Alana smiled a little to herself, and said, “Well, this is a wonderful birthday present.”

“It’s your birthday?” Will asked, his body tensing; Alana kept her breathing smooth and even and soon he relaxed once again, matching her. “Well, happy birthday to you.”

“It really is,” she answered, and basked in the warm glow of happiness that came with having the perfect night.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hannibal-Exchange (@dw).  
> Prompt: Will/Alana; fluff, doggies


End file.
